


Justice Served

by Sadistrix



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Dark Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Dubious Consent, F/F, Gunplay, Implied Talon Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:54:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadistrix/pseuds/Sadistrix
Summary: It’s intoxicating to watch the flash of fear cross Moira’s haughty features for a split second before she manages to bury it once more and Angela tries not to imagine that it’s a side effect of whatever Talon’s research division had done to her.
Relationships: Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Kudos: 8
Collections: Unofficial FFA Unanon Collection





	Justice Served

"This simply proves my hypothesis," Moira starts to say. She's on her knees, hair sticking out in every direction - and still as smug as ever. Angela presses her fingers against her lips before she can gloat any more, and it thrills her to feel how hot and swollen they are beneath her fingertips. They'll bruise, almost certainly, and Angela's own backhand is to blame.

"I will _not_ be used in service to Talon," Angela counters. When had she unsheathed her sidearm? She tilts her wrist, and with it, Moira’s chin. It’s intoxicating to watch the flash of fear cross Moira’s haughty features for a split second before she manages to bury it once more and Angela tries not to imagine that it’s a side effect of whatever Talon’s research division had done to her.

She takes a deep breath. Surely the barely audible hiss of breath Moira lets out when Angela digs her nails into her cheeks shouldn’t be kindling a flame in her stomach. She’s a pacifist, a healer… She wants, more than anything, to watch Moira’s eyes go cloudy with fear once more for the terror she’s unleashed.

Justice served, Angela lies to herself, as if she’s ever agreed with such a line of thinking. It feels right now - and then more so when she shoves the short barrel of her Caduceus blaster between her fingers until it fills Moira’s mouth.

Her eyebrows lift as if the scientist is surprised to find herself on this end of Angela’s pistol, but the dread Angela had hoped for - remorse, even, would have sufficed - is absent. Moira lets her head be pushed back by another fraction, closes her eyes and swallows. Her gaunt cheeks hollow beneath Angela’s hand and every tendon that runs the length of her long, pale throat stands in sharp relief.

Angela forgets herself. She pushes the gun deeper, forcing Moira to try to accommodate. There’s no excuse for this, none but the burn between her thighs and in her chest, forcing Angela on. “Your research is out of date, and you overestimate yourself,” she spits at Moira, taking a sadistic sort of glee in the way she chokes and gags. Perhaps she’d been wrong to deny the pleasure in such a thing for so long. “And this time you’ve made it personal.”


End file.
